He doesn't care about the darkening sky. There are more important things to worry about, even though the coming rain could erase his hastily scratched circle. He bleeds.
His laces are coming undone. The edges of his jeans are caked with mud. Sweat adheres his t-shirt to his back, and a cold wind hits him full in the face, the scent of ozone smacking him straight in the nose. There is no more running.
"Bondevik."
He turns. The enemy is here, his scarf whipping in the wind. He is just as winded, perhaps even worse for wear. A fresh wound beneath his eye smears red across his cheekbones.
Lukas looks down at his circle. He's drawn it correctly. This is his last resort. He meets the other man's eyes. They are electric blue and dangerous. There is no anger there, no hate, only regret.
"I don't want to hurt you," he says.
Lukas takes in a breath and holds it there. He shakes his head. Surprisingly, he feels no fear. He thought that, perhaps, when faced with death, there would be something. Terror. Nausea. But there is nothing.
The man steps forward, a ball of lightning materializing in his hand. He says nothing. He doesn't wish to hurt Lukas, so he'll make this quick. Efficient and painless, the signature style of Oxenstierna.
Lukas looks down, then shouts a word in the old language. The circle ignites with blue fire and he is gone, pulled away by another force. The lightning sails through empty air. In the abandoned playground, rain falls.
He feels his cheek pressed against familiar floorboards. Lukas takes a shuddering breath. He's shaking all over. It takes a while for him to stand up, then even longer for him to stumble from his chalk circle and sink into an old armchair.
There's not much time. He has to move, and fast. But he's so tired. He scuffs some of the chalk on the circle, just in case the marks in the dirt are still intact, leaving Berwald an open gateway through which to pursue him.
Lukas looks around the room. There is no sentimentality for the place. It was nothing more than an outpost, a place to nest for the time being. He forces himself to stand.
His suitcase is in the closet. It will be child's play to buy tickets for a train online. There are other towns, other places he can run to. And there are allies.
Mathias wakes up to the sound of his apartment being broken into. He lies very still in bed, eyes half open. There is always the possibility that this is just an ordinary burglar. It's a very slim possibility.
He hears deliberately quiet footsteps outside his bedroom door. His hands shake. Feigning sleep doesn't sound like a very good idea. He begins to sit up just as the door crashes inward.
"Shit!" The intruder ducks as a bolt of fire slams into the frame behind him, leaving an ugly black singe mark. Mathias is about to fire another round when the intruder turns on the lights. "It's me! Jesus, put that away."
Mathias grins sheepishly. "Sorry. You know, if you didn't want to get roasted, you shouldn't break into other people's apartments."
Antonio huffs, but he is also smiling. "It's an emergency. And you were asleep." Mathias glances at his clock. "It's 3AM!"
"A quien madruga, Dios le ayuda," Antonio replies. "Get up!" He claps his hands twice and loudly. Wincing, Mathias drags himself from his bed. It takes him longer than Antonio is patient for to get dressed. Everything in his room is out of order.
"What's the emergency?" Mathias says with a yawn.
"They know we're here and they're closing in. It's probably only a couple of hours before they find this house," Antonio says, looking at all the clothes strewn on the floor. "Are you good at packing fast?"
Mathias drops the shirt he's holding. "What?"
"It's that Kirkland guy too. And I think Elizaveta's with him as well. They sent in the big guns." He's still grinning. Mathias can only stare at him in horror.
"They're coming here?" he says, pointing at the floor.
"Where else?" Antonio shrugs. "We're the only two here. It's either my house or yours. Don't worry, I'm already packed and ready to go. Got us seats on the first bus out of here."
Mathias quickly retrieves his shirt and pulls it over his head. He rushes from the room and returns with his biggest suitcase. Antonio helps him toss articles of clothing into it, along with a plastic bag of toiletries that Mathias has set aside for emergencies. He runs back and forth between his room and the living room, choosing his favorite books (plus the magical ones. Those are dangerous).
"Ah, just like old times," Antonio says. "You know, it was getting kind of boring here anyway. Always good to be traveling, no?"
Mathia smirks.
They're leaving the house by the back door, each carrying a suitcase and bus tickets, when a pair of figures step into the alley. One is a man with thick eyebrows. The other is a woman, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. The man wears a black coat. The woman is dressed more naturally, in greens and blues, with thick leggings and brown boots. Mathias and Antonio skid to a halt.
"Going somewhere?" the man says.
"Yeah," Mathias says. "We've got a bus to catch."
"Afraid you're going to have to miss it, boys," the man says, pulling on a pair of black gloves. The woman beside him slides her purse off her arm. It clangs as it drops to the ground. Antonio doesn't hesitate. A wall of fire springs up between him and the dangerous pair. Mathias doesn't need to be told to run. He spins on his heel and races down the alley, suitcase in tow. There's no way he's leaving it behind; not with all the books of magic contained within.
The air shimmers in front of him, and the woman is suddenly standing there, a heavy, dark object raised above her head. He only narrowly dodges her swing. He throws an energy pulse at her. The impact knocks her back, but doesn't floor her. Mathias tries to heft the suitcase at her, to no avail.
Meanwhile, the man with the thick eyebrows stalks through the flame, somehow impervious to them. Antonio laughs. "Wow! Nice one, Arthur! ¡Asombroso!"
Arthur doesn't mince words. He hits Antonio with a hard bolt of magic that sends him careening into the wall. The Spaniard laughs again, then returns with fire. Small flames spring up along Arthur Kirkland's arms and legs, but have no affect. The Englishman merely glances at them and they wither away.
"A valiant effort," he says, "but not good enough." He kicks Antonio in the chest, sending him to the ground. "You've gotten weaker, Carriedo."
Mathias ducks another one of Elizaveta's swings. A blow from whatever she's holding is going to be nasty, even if it isn't enchanted (although it is). She's got a very strong arm.
"Let's talk about this," he says. "You don't actually want to kill me, do you?"
"Yes." Swing. Miss. "I do." Swing. Miss.
Mathias wishes he could summon his weapon. It would take a considerable amount of energy and time that he doesn't have, however, not while he's dodging Elizaveta's vicious attacks. Behind him, he hears Antonio destroying the alleyway.
Even with all the noise, the neighbors aren't waking up to see what all the racket is. Probably a sound cancellation over this entire area. The enemy is nothing if not thorough. Ordinary people would get in the way, and neither side wants any sort of collateral damage.
Suddenly, there's a sound like breaking glass, and the entire alley is choked with fog. Mathias, just ducking away from another blow, can no longer see anything. He coughs. There's a light touch on his shoulder.
"This way." It's not Antonio's voice, but it's familiar. Mathias grasps the handle of his suitcase more tightly and runs. He can make out Arthur and Elizaveta's coughs and their attempts to disperse the fog, but it's useless. This lasts for a good two hours, dismissal or no. Mathias can't believe his luck.
Once they're clear of the fog, Mathias sees that Antonio has also made his way out safely. Their savior whistles. Antonio is covered with bruises. His left eye is already swelling closed.
"You are getting reckless, mon ami."
Antonio wags a finger. "You don't have any room to talk, Francis."
Francis smooths his golden hair behind one ear, affecting a look of nonchalance. "You can thank me for saving you later. For now, we must get to the bus station and quickly. Here, ma pauvre. Let me fix your face."
Mathias begins to breathe normally again. He glances over his shoulder. It seems they're in the clear. For now.
Arthur and Elizaveta eventually manage their way out of the fog. It's Elizaveta who curses first, hurling her frying pan at the wall. Sparks fly. Arthur is obviously fuming, trying to hold it in.
"That is the last time they make fools out of us."